


Like A Virgin

by hellahotchner



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25053055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellahotchner/pseuds/hellahotchner
Summary: After you and Spencer reveal a secret to the team, you end up revealing an even bigger secret to each other.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 238





	Like A Virgin

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t set at any particular time, and my details might be a bit off but I did my best. Pls be kind as always!

Being Spencer Reid’s best friend meant being his date to _every_ social event. You went with him to comicons, conventions, film festivals, museums, and lectures. It was one of your favorite things about being his friend—you two had a lot of the same niche and nerdy interests, and you two were the only person in each other’s lives that shared those interests. It was also nice to spend that time with him, considering how often he went away for work. 

Today, he’d asked you to accompany him to a team party at Rossi’s. Apparently everybody except Rossi and Prentiss had somebody coming along, and he didn’t want to be left out this time, since Rossi and Prentiss were close. You’d agreed, but admittedly you were a bit nervous. You’d met the team before, but never went farther than polite introductions. It wasn’t like Spencer was trying to keep you from them, it was just two separate parts of his life. You simply didn’t work at the BAU.

Of course, you’d picked out your favorite casual dress, a bright yellow wrap dress. You’d always thought that yellow was your best color, and it reflected your personality the most—it _screams_ elementary school teacher (though it’s way too short for the classroom, considering it’s a mini dress) and that was, like, a solid 60% of your personality.

Spencer picked you up at 7, immediately complimenting your dress. You’d asked him quickly if it was too short or if it showed too much cleavage, and he’d just blushed and laughed out that you looked beautiful as always. 

Walking into Rossi’s wasn’t that hard. Rossi was so warm and welcoming, it felt like walking into your dad’s house. But walking into the kitchen where everybody was waiting? _That_ was terrifying. You immediately slipped your hand into Spencer’s, and he squeezed it in reassurance as he led you in. 

“Reid’s here!” Rossi announced, and the group cheered happily. 

“Hi guys,” Spencer smiled back. He squeezed your hand again, turning to you. “I brought Y/N, I hope you don’t mind.”

You let go of his hand and waved at everybody, relieved that they all seemed happy to see you. Garcia, especially. She squealed excitedly and ran over to you as quickly as her large heels allowed, and threw her arms around you. You laughed and hugged her back with equal enthusiasm. 

“You look _so_ gorgeous, Y/N! I love that dress! And those earrings, Oh, my God. Where did you get them?!” She asks, reaching forward to touch one of them. 

You reached up to touch them, too. You were known in your school for always wearing big, ridiculous statement earrings. Tonight, you’d picked a pair of earrings you made. “I made them myself!” You tell her. “I teach kindergarten, and I have tons of Barbie dolls in the classroom. One of them got super messed up so I stole her shoes and put earring hooks on them.”

“You make your own earrings?! You have to make me a pair!”

“Of course!” You agree, overjoyed that she loved them enough to actually want some. “I’ll dig around my house and see what extra toys and stuff I have lying around, and I’ll have Spencer bring them to you.”

At the mention of Spencer, Garcia turns her attention straight back to him. “Reid, I like her. You have the best best friend.”

Spencer chuckles lightly, “I know, that’s why we’ve been friends for ten years.”

“Eight years,” you correct. 

“Eight years, ten months, and three days.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to Garcia. “I’m sure I have some Polly Pockets, one of my sweet girls gave me some for teacher’s appreciation. I can probably make a pair out of whatever I have with that.” She thanked you profusely, and then moved back to where she was before, allowing you and Spencer to join the group. 

Over the course of the night, you got to know each of the teammates better. You also got to meet Will for the first time, and you were obsessed with his accent, and with the way he looked at JJ. You could just tell how much he loved her. You also clicked with Morgan and his wife, Savannah, like you knew you would. You even got to see Hotch smile and laugh for the first time. 

They all seemed to find it amusing how you and Spencer were so alike and yet so different. You two were practically the same person, except you were bright and loud and overly positive, where Spencer was always more reserved and tentative. You figured it probably had to do with your occupations, teaching five-year-olds and profiling serial killers are two very different things. 

After dinner, which was _amazing,_ everybody migrated out to Rossi’s back patio for drinks, as well as just to enjoy the warm July night. It didn’t take long for people to start cracking jokes they wouldn’t have made sober, and for the night to devolve into playing truth or dare like a group of teenagers. 

“Morgan,” Prentiss grinned, all loose and giggly from the Merlot, “truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

She grinned, “I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in this room, besides Savannah.”

For a moment, Morgan looked flustered, but then a mischievous smirk crossed his face. He looked around the group and then settled on Spencer, sending a wink his way. “I’m coming for you, Pretty Boy,” he teased, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the way Spencer tensed up and gave Morgan a bewildered look. 

As Morgan stood from his chair and crept towards Spencer, Spencer leaned further and further into you, like he was trying to get away from Morgan. But once he got close enough, Morgan bypassed Spencer completely, and went to your other side to press his lips to Garcia’s cheek. 

Everybody laughed at how relieved Spencer looked, especially Morgan as he took his seat again. “I was gonna kiss Y/N, but I think Spencer’s head might’ve exploded,” he teased. You roll your eyes a little—people always assumed that you and Spencer had a thing, but it wasn’t true. Spencer wasn’t interested in you. 

You, on the other hand, have had feelings for _years._ You just learned to coexist with your feelings. You’d long since accepted that Spencer would never feel the same about you, and that's okay. He was your best friend before he was your love interest, and you didn’t want to lose him over some silly crush. You’d get over it, eventually. Hopefully. You had to. 

“Your turn, then, Pretty Girl. Since I couldn’t kiss you.” He pouts a little and then laughs when you give him the finger. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Hmm…” Morgan strokes his chin as he thinks, and then leans forward on his knees. “What’s your most embarrassing story?”

Spencer immediately laughs at the question, and you reach over to punch his shoulder. Your cheeks burn at just the memory—you know that you and Spencer are thinking of the exact same thing. The day you two met. 

“Ugh, it was in college,” you start, sending Spencer into another fit of laughter. You glare at him again, to which he puts his hand over his mouth and mimics zipping his lips. You just roll your eyes and start again. “It was in college, my last year. I was doing full-time student teaching with a kindergarten classroom in a school near CalTech, and apparently the coffee shop I stopped at was popular with students. Anyway, I was running late, and as I was leaving the shop I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I ran right into this guy and spilled my coffee all over him. I was so embarrassed, because obviously I’d just humiliated myself, and I thought he was cute. So I start apologizing and trying to help clean him up, when I notice he’s giving me this really weird look as I’m dabbing at his shirt. And that’s when I realized I’d been using my teacher voice, totally talking to him like he was a five year old. Pretty much baby talk. He laughed at me for a solid two minutes while I stammered out the explanation that I was on my way to teach. I totally ruined his nice shirt, too.” You pouted a little bit as everybody laughed at you. 

That’s when Spencer dropped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “And that is the story of how I met my best friend at a coffee shop at CalTech.” Everybody laughs even harder at the realization that the guy you’d embarrassed yourself in front of was Spencer, of all people. 

“So, wait,” JJ interrupts, “if you met while in college in California, how did you both end up here in Virginia? And weren’t you, like, 17 when you graduated?”

“I was 17 when I graduated with my first PhD. We met when I was 21, finishing my third. And Y/N cried when she found out that I was going to the FBI academy, so for two years she told me she was going to follow me to Virginia. She was joking of course, but then I overheard my neighbor saying that they were looking to fill positions at her school, and I told Y/N about it. She interviewed from where she was living in Santa Barbara, and got the job, so she decided to move out to Virginia.”

JJ blinks. “She moved 3,000 miles just to be near you? What about her family?”

“She is sitting right here,” Spencer says quickly, but you touch his leg so he knows that you don’t care. “And actually, it’s about 2,720 miles from here to Santa Barbara. And she moved here because it was a good job opportunity.”

“I always wanted to come back to the east coast anyway,” you add in. “My family is from Maryland, I’d only moved out to California to fulfill my teenage dream of living in LA. When I moved to Santa Barbara I wasn’t nearly as happy as I’d been in LA, and I wasn’t getting any other job offers there. So when Spencer told me about the opening here, it made sense. Closer to family and closer to him, plus more money. And there’s a lower cost of living here.”

“This got too damn serious,” Morgan interrupts, and you snort. He’s definitely well on his way to drunk. “Loosen up a bit, damn. We were telling embarrassing stories. I’m gonna go again to get us back on track. Will, truth or dare?”

Will seems shocked to be picked, but takes it in stride, “Dare.”

Morgan dares him to streak, which JJ is adamant isn’t going to happen. So they switch it to truth, and Morgan asks a strictly X-rated question. 

Really, it all goes downhill from there. All of the truths start becoming dirty, and as people get drunker, the answers start flowing. You learn things about Spencer’s colleagues that you never knew before, and you find yourself laughing at most of it. 

But you should’ve known it was going to come back to bite you in the ass. 

“Dr. Spencer Reid, truth or dare?” Prentiss grins evilly. 

“Truth,” He picks, and you know it’s because he’s scared of getting dared to streak. 

“When, where, how, and to whom did you lose your virginity?”

Spencer blushes immediately. “Dare.”

That, of course, makes everybody take interest. As for you, you just take a super long sip of wine and hope nobody notices that you’re blushing harder than Spencer is. 

“We dare you to answer the question, Doctor,” Garcia interjects. “You’re avoiding it for a reason, so it must be juicy.”

“I’m a virgin?” Spencer tries, but nobody believes him. They all just keep begging, and Spencer shoots you a quick glance. You just nod imperceptibly—you figure there’s no harm in them knowing. You weren’t embarrassed or ashamed of it. “Okay, fine. I lost my virginity when I was 24, a couple years after I joined the BAU. I’d admitted to the girl that I was a virgin, and she told me that she was too, and we decided to lose it to each other.”

Prentiss grins, “Oooh, who was the girl? That actress girl, Lila Archer?”

“No way Lila Archer was a virgin,” Morgan cut in. Prentiss seemed to agree, nodding jerkily before looking back to Spencer. 

“So who the hell was the girl?”

The poor guy looks so embarrassed, so you decide to take initiative. You put your wine glass down and then put your hand up. “That would be me,” you admit, giving Spencer a little smile when he looks at you. “I was visiting him from Santa Barbara, we’d drank a little bit and we were laying in his room having deep conversations… One thing led to another. It wasn’t as clinical as he made it sound. We didn’t, like, discuss that we were going to have sex. We both admitted we were virgins, and then it just happened from there.”

“And it hasn’t happened again,” Spencer rushes to say. For some reason, the words cut you a little bit. Why is he so embarrassed to have slept with you? Why does he want to make sure that his friends know he’s not _currently_ sleeping with you? Were you really that undesirable? Something to be embarrassed of? 

You pick your wine glass up and drain it, ignoring the rest of the team’s invasive questions. You’re suddenly not in the mood for this game anymore, and kind of just want to go home. 

“I’m going to go get another glass,” you say quietly, excusing yourself from the group. 

When you reach Rossi’s large kitchen, you set your glass down by the bottle of Merlot and then just lean against the marble countertop. 

Maybe you were just too drunk, and that’s why you’re letting his words get to you. You two spend a lot of time explaining to people that you’re not together, it makes sense that Spencer would clarify that you two don’t actively hook up. Especially after you’d just admitted to basically moving across the entire country to be near him. 

But still, he didn’t have to say it like that. He didn’t need to sound so put off by the thought of having sex with you. Sure, the time you two did it, it was awkward. But it was your first time, first times were notorious for being awkward. And you hadn’t thought it was _that_ bad. You’d enjoyed it. You thought he did, too. 

Fuck it, you’re not too drunk. You’re not drunk enough. Especially not to deal with these stupid feelings. 

You start to pour another glass, when footsteps to your left make you startle. You look up to find JJ standing there, a small smile on her face. 

“Hey, JJ. Did you want more, or…?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she says quickly, waving off your offer. “You just seemed upset when you stepped away. I hope that Prentiss and Morgan didn’t make you uncomfortable by asking you questions about your sex life. They can be kind of overbearing. And, um, they had no idea he’d say it was you. If they knew, they never would’ve pressed.”

You shrug a little, trying to laugh it off. “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind them asking about it. I’m kind of surprised it hasn’t come up before, really, judging by the game tonight. It seems like a question drunk Morgan would’ve asked before,” you tease. 

“He probably has,” JJ agrees. “But Spencer’s really private. Especially about you. He tells us all the time that he wants to keep you safe by keeping you away from the BAU. Bad things can happen to the people close to us, unfortunately. Every time cases start getting personal, he worries about you.”

Your heart flutters a little bit, knowing that Spencer wants to keep you safe. But you force yourself to swallow it down. That’s just what friends do. “He’s told me that before, too. The wanting to keep me safe part.” You smile a little, and then bring your wine to your lips. “He’s a good friend.”

“He is,” she nods. “But he can be really stupid sometimes.”

You raise your eyebrows. “How do you mean?”

She steps a little bit closer to you, and leans against the counter. “Having an IQ of 187 hasn’t done anything to help him realize when a girl has feelings for him,” she murmurs, quiet enough that anybody eavesdropping wouldn’t hear her. 

Your eyes go wide at her implication, and you nearly choke on your next sip of wine. But you can tell by her expression that there’s no use trying to deny it. And besides, you know from experience with Spencer that there’s no use in lying to a federal profiler. So you don’t try to deny it, instead just blushing and shifting your gaze to your shoes. 

“He also can’t always tell when he hurts people’s feelings,” she continues. “He thinks that they made you uncomfortable with all of their questions. He was trying to get them to come apologize, but I managed to convince him that they were too drunk, and that I’d apologize on their behalf.”

You blink owlishly. “Thank you, I think.” You clutch onto your wine like a lifeline, heart racing as the reality sets in. JJ is going to try to convince you to tell Spencer how you feel. “I can’t tell him that I have feelings for him,” you rush out. “I know him, and I know he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“I know that you’ve known him for way longer than we have, and I know that you know him better than we do in a lot of ways. But we’re all profilers. And besides that, we see parts of him that you don’t see. The parts of him that he hides from you.” She takes the wine glass out of your hands, and holds both of your hands in her own. She feels almost like your mother, in that moment. “You should see the way his eyes light up when he talks about you, or when you text him. He’ll drop plans with us, no matter what they are, if you ask him to hang out. He brings you up at least once in every conversation. When Prentiss first asked about you after she joined the team, he went on for ten minutes about how beautiful you are, and for another ten about how you’re his favorite person. When we’re on cases, he worries more about you than his mother, and he always points out souvenirs he’d buy you from your favorite city, since he can’t actually buy them because of work. You’re his emergency contact. And that’s not all.”

“JJ, I—”

“A couple of years ago, we had a case involving anthrax where Spencer was exposed and ended up in the hospital. I’m sure you remember that.” She pauses, and you nod to tell her you do. Of course you do, how could you ever forget Spencer calling you from some random hospital in Maryland to tell you he had been exposed to anthrax? “When he was in the lab, he called Garcia and asked her to record a message in case he died. He left one for his mother, and he left one for you. I don’t know what he said, nobody does except for himself and Garcia, but ever since then she’s been begging him to ask you out, so. I think those two things are related.”

You blink back tears that have suddenly filled your eyes, and let go of one of her hands to try to wipe away any stragglers. She lets go of your other hand and just pulls you into a hug. “He’s my best friend, JJ. I can’t lose him, I can’t—”

You’re interrupted by the entrance of somebody else into the kitchen, and you look up from JJ’s shoulder to see Spencer. 

He looks concerned immediately, and you figure it’s reasonable. After all, walking in on your best friend crying and hugging someone isn’t exactly a great thing. 

“Are you okay?” He asks quickly, pulling on JJ’s shoulder until she moves and then immediately replacing her hug with his own. You hug him back, and watch over his shoulder as JJ quietly slips out of the room and back outside. “I’m sorry if Morgan and Prentiss made you uncomfortable, they can be really—”

“Overbearing, I know. JJ said.” You sigh a little bit, and then pull back out of the hug. “It’s not that, I don’t care that they were asking questions. It’s not like they knew that the answer was me, anyway. They wouldn’t have asked if they’d known. But I really don’t care about that.”

He stares down at you, analyzing your expression. When a couple more tears fall, he’s quick to wipe them. “Why are you crying?” He asks, and his voice is so soft that you almost start to cry even harder. 

“Can you just take me home, please?” 

Spencer nods quickly, saying that he’ll go tell his team that you were feeling sick and that he needs to take you home. You feel bad that you aren’t properly thanking Rossi for hosting you or saying goodbye to the rest of the team, but you also don’t want them to see you crying and feel bad or awkward about it. You figure Spencer will thank them for the both of you, and will probably even say that you feel bad for not saying goodbye.

Once he returns, he ushers you out to his car with a hand on the small of your back. He’s sober, of course, so he drives home. The ride is quiet, and you’re thankful that Spencer doesn’t ask you to speak because it gives you the time to breathe your tears away and collect yourself. 

He walks you up to your apartment, at which point you ask if he wants to come inside. He agrees like he always does, but instead of asking him if he wants to watch a movie, you just grab two water bottles and head straight for your bedroom. He follows. 

That’s how you end up laying in your bed together, both on top of the covers and staring at the ceiling, still completely dressed. The only movement and sound is the both of you drinking water, even though you’re really the only one that needs it. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Spencer murmurs, “but I want you to know that I’m here for you. If you do want to.”

“I know you are, Spence.”

He turns on his side to face you, but you don’t do the same. You can’t look at him. “Did I do something to upset you?” He asks, and apparently he finds his answer in the way you close your eyes, because he continues. “I’m sorry for whatever I did. You know I’m not great with social cues, but I’m trying really hard. Whatever I said or did, I really didn’t mean to offend anyone. Especially you.”

And what the fuck does that even mean? _Especially you._ As if he wasn’t basically telling the entire team how disgusted he’d be to sleep with you just an hour before. 

“You didn’t have to say it like that,” you blurt out, swearing at yourself when you hear the tears still coating your voice. 

Spencer blinks. “Say what like what?”

You huff in frustration, pressing the palms of your hand to your eyes and dragging them down your face. JJ was right, he is stupid. “When we told them about us having sex. You didn’t have to say _it hasn’t happened again_ with that tone. Like you were disgusted by the idea. I get that you’re not attracted to me, and I know it might not have been the best night for you, and I know that you want to make sure people know we aren’t together, but you didn’t have to be so mean about it.”

“What? Y/N, I didn’t… What?”

“Like I said, I get it, okay? It just hurt my feelings.”

“Y/N.” He scoots closer to you on the bed, and tries to pull you onto your side to face him. When you don’t budge—because you’re tearing up again and don’t want him to see it—he just gently grabs your chin and turns your head. “I’m not disgusted by the idea or the memory, okay? I’m glad that I lost my virginity to you. And, for the record, I absolutely do not find you unattractive. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.” He licks his lips, then, suddenly nervous. You decide to finally roll on your side to face him, and maybe help with his confidence. 

“The only reason I denied it so quickly is because… Because I wish it wasn’t just a one time thing. I’ve had feelings for you since the day that we met, Y/N. And after we slept together, you didn’t act like anything was different, so I figured it was just friends helping friends out. That’s why I never said anything. But I’ve been in love with you for eight years.”

The tears you’d been trying to blink back fall freely now, and Spencer frowns, reaching out to thumb them away. 

“Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry again, I—”

“Spencer, shut up.”

And then you’re leaning in to kiss him. 

He doesn’t respond at first, but once his brain catches up he’s going all in. He kisses you back like he’s been waiting on it for eight years, one hand cupping your cheek and the other trying to pull you closer to him. 

You go easily, moving to straddle him down to the bed. His hands fall to your waist, and then wrap around your back to hug you to him as you keep kissing. He’s a surprisingly good kisser for someone as inexperienced as you know he is, and it isn’t long before he’s hardening underneath you. 

You whimper at the feeling of his arousal underneath you, and the sound makes Spencer pull back. He’s flushed, and looks embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I— We don’t have to do anything, and you’re drunk so we shouldn’t—”

“I had two glasses of wine, I’m not drunk,” you whisper. “And it’s been an hour, and I’ve had water. I promise I’m fine.” You bite your lip a little bit, and brush your hair behind your ear, suddenly embarrassed at how eager you sound. “Unless you don’t want to?”

“N-No! I want to,” he pants out, and you grin way too big, reaching down to start unbuttoning his shirt. 

Once his shirt is unbuttoned and thrown to the side, you start kissing your way down his neck and chest, pausing at the top of his pants. You look up for consent, and when he grants it, you quickly undo his belt and then pull it and his pants off. 

He’s not naked, but you can tell through his briefs that he’s way bigger than you’d remembered. You whimper again, settling yourself back over it, pressing your clothed sex against his. Both of you moan at the contact, and his hands fly to grip your hips as you start slowly grinding against him. 

“Have you— Have you slept with anybody else since…?” You ask, though you know the answer. 

He nods, “Yes. Only one person, a few times. I’ve been tested, I’m clean. But I have a condom.” He looks at you through heavily lidded eyes, and just the sight of his pleasure makes your clit throb. “What about you?”

You blush, staring down at your lap. Your dress is pushed up around your thighs, but not revealing anything. All you can see is your thighs bracketing his hips, and it makes what’s going on underneath it feel oddly taboo. For some reason, not being able to see the way his dick is nestled against you, even with a barrier of clothes, is so fucking hot. 

“Nobody else,” you admit. “I’ve been… I’ve been in love with you, so. No other guy ever seemed right enough to go that far. You know that I only went on a couple of dates that never went anywhere. Not even to first base.”

The admission makes Spencer growl and, in an uncharacteristic display of dominance, he flips you over so he’s on top. “You are so sexy,” he groans out. “And that is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.” You start to ask why, but then Spencer’s lips are on your neck, and he’s fumbling with the tie on the front of your dress. 

You help him undo it, and then reach to undo the clip on the inside too. The dress falls open, and he pushes the two sides apart before leaning back and admiring your body. 

You thank whatever God is up there for making you choose a matching bra and panties, and then thank them again for making them white instead of some embarrassing color. You definitely had some Barbie hot pink panties somewhere that you _never_ wanted Spencer to see. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he repeats, slowly tracing his fingers up your sides to your breasts. He traces the edge of your bra gently before pushing his hand below you and popping open your bra. He doesn’t move it though, letting you decide when to reveal yourself. 

But he’s seen you before, so you don’t hesitate to sit up and shrug off the dress and the bra. You don’t miss the way Spencer stares. “You’ve seen me naked before, Spence,” you mumble as you lay back down. “I look the same.”

“Gorgeous.” He leans down and starts working his mouth on one nipple, using his hand to work the other. You can’t help but moan at the stimulation, threading your fingers in his hair to hold him where you want him. 

He doesn’t waste too much time at your breasts, instead moving down your body to between your legs fairly quickly. He gently runs one finger over your panties, and then looks up at you. 

“Seeing you this wet because of me is the greatest compliment in the world,” he tells you, making you smile like a dopey, lovesick idiot. Which, you suppose you are. “Can I take these off, baby?”

The pet name makes your heart swell, and you nod quickly. You’d let Spencer have anything his heart desired, but letting him get his mouth on you is hardly a burden. 

He’s good with his mouth, you discover. You should’ve known that his mouth was good for more than just facts and statistics. 

He runs his tongue over your soaked folds a few times, before flattening his tongue and moving it over your clit. You hold him by his hair again, crying out way too loudly for how thin your apartment’s walls are, and your orgasm starts building embarrassingly quick. 

As he starts to suckle on your clit, he slips one finger into you. He moans at the feeling, which makes your hips jerk so violently that it dislodges his mouth from your clit. But he’s quick to get back to it, sucking like a man starved, circling your clit so fast that you know it’s going to be over soon. 

You moan his name when you come, and he licks up every remnant of your release. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and then leans his entire body back over you. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to kiss you, moaning at the taste of yourself on his lips. It makes you throb again, desperate to feel him inside of you. You wrap your legs around his waist as an encouragement. 

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?” He pants out, forehead resting against yours. “If you haven’t had sex since you lost your virginity, it’s probably going to hurt this time. Studies show that over 50% of women experience pain when losing their virginity, and 35% bleed. And I know you’re not losing your virginity, but it’s still just as likely this time, since it’s only your second time and it’s been so long since—”

“Spence, please stop reminding me of my five year dry spell,” you tease, instantly shutting him up. “I’m absolutely positive about this. I want you to make me feel good. And I’m on birth control, so you don’t have to use a condom.”

“I can buy you Plan B in the morning, as well,” he promises. “If you take it within 24 hours of intercourse, it’s 95% effective in preventing pregnancy. And birth control pills are 91% effective on average, so we’ve got a lot of protection.”

You start to laugh about halfway through his statistics, and though he does finish what he wanted to say, he starts to laugh too. He buries his face in your neck and leans against you, just laughing it off. You like laughing with him, it makes it so much less awkward and intense. 

“I love you, Spencer,” you giggle, stroking your hand on the nape of his neck. 

He smiles into your skin, gripping your hips to pull you closer. “I love you,” he murmurs back, pressing one last kiss to your neck before propping himself back up. 

He quickly pulls off his briefs and then lines himself up, checking with you one more time for consent before pushing in. You lock your legs around his waist at the feeling, closing your eyes against the pain. It doesn’t hurt too bad, but it definitely doesn’t feel good yet. 

When he bottoms out, he pauses, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead. “Just tell me when you’re ready, okay?” He whispers, and you nod. 

You take a few moments to breathe it out before nodding at him to move. He starts off slow, and with every thrust the pain starts to dull. And finally, after about five minutes of the slow, boring thrusts, he hits something inside of you that makes you gasp. 

From there, the pace picks up. He starts moving faster, pulling almost all the way out just to shove back in. Your body moves upwards with every thrust, and his dick hits your g-spot every couple of times. You’re a moaning, whimpering mess, leaving scratch marks all down his back and rendered basically incoherent. 

“You feel so good, baby,” he praises, using one arm to prop your hips up to change the angle. You cry out at the new angle and all the new places inside of you that he can reach—you suddenly regret not saying anything years earlier, if this is what you’ve been missing out on. “You’re so tight, so wet. God, I love you. You’re so beautiful, feels so amazing.”

“Spencer,” you cry out, arching your back into his chest, “I’m so close, please.”

He licks his thumb and then reaches down to rub your clit in tight circles. You pull him down to kiss you as you go racing towards your orgasm, and he swallows down the scream of his name as you finally come. Probably saving you a noise complaint from your neighbors. 

His orgasm follows pretty quickly, and the look of pure bliss on his face and the way he whispers your name in pleasure makes you want to go again. 

But you’re both tired, so instead he just pulls out and flops down next to you. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, making Spencer laugh. “It was so much better the second time. We have to keep doing that.”

“I promise we can keep doing that,” Spencer murmurs, teaching over to pull you into his chest. You know you need to go clean up and use the bathroom, but your legs are so shaky that you know you probably need a minute before walking is possible. “But only if you let me take you on a date first. What do you think of going for lunch Saturday, if I’m not on a case? We can pack a picnic and go sit by the river.”

You smile softly, tilting your chin up to ask for a kiss. Of course he grants it, over and over and over until you’re satisfied. “I would love to,” you whisper, and he smiles so wide you’re worried his cheeks might crack. “I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you. I was just scared to lose you as my best friend.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he tells you, rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. “We were both kind of stupid, but it’s okay. We got here anyway.”

“You’re right. I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more.”

“Will you stay the night?” You ask, giving him the best puppy eyes you can manage. “I want you to be here when I wake up.”

Spencer nods, pulling you even closer to his body and tucking your head under his chin. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”


End file.
